


midnight, lose my mind

by doriangay



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Flashbacks, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, New Years, i write i dont do maths, post-s14, way too much kissing okay i didnt realise how much ten years worth of new years would add up to, well... it added up to ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doriangay/pseuds/doriangay
Summary: They weren’t dancing anymore, neither of them were moving their feet or even really swaying - for a million dollars, Dennis couldn’t name the song that was playing. All that existed in that moment was Mac’s cheek pressed against his own.“We’re getting old, man.”
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 23
Kudos: 146





	midnight, lose my mind

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a little 2k piece and... snowballed. 
> 
> **content warnings:**
> 
> * references to drugs (mild)

The bar was empty. On any other night, this wouldn’t have been a problem - Paddy’s wasn’t known for its ability to hold a lot of people, and it was no big secret that the gang hated doing their jobs. Most of the time, they were glad for a quiet crowd.

However, on New Year’s Eve, this meant that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Dennis took a sip of beer, watching an argument play out between Frank and Dee. He was only half listening really, feigning interest to try and ignore the way Mac’s legs were brushing against his every so often as he shifted next to him on his stool, as though he could will away the electric sparks shooting through his chest.

“And you didn’t even _think_ to proofread the posters?” Dee said for the third time, in disbelief, as she stared at the piece of paper in front of her.

It was one of the fliers Frank and Charlie had been handing out all week, advertising their annual New Year’s celebrations. Emblazoned across the top of them in bold red letters were the words “ **ALCOHOL FREE!** ”

Charlie made a noise of disgust from where he was drinking a beer, disgraced, alone in a booth, “it’s not our fault the English language is bullshit, Dee.” He said.

“Yeah, Deandra,” Frank chimed in, “don’t blame us for trying to entice some new customers in.”

“I _will_ blame you, Frank! I will blame you when everyone who’s seen these fliers is gonna either think we’re giving away free alcohol, or having a dry party at a bar. Neither of those things are good!”

“Oh, lighten up, Dee.” Charlie said, rolling his eyes.

Dee span around, opening her mouth to spit out a cruel retort, before Mac cut in, “maybe… this is a chance for us to have our own party,” he said, “just for us - we can shut down the bar for the night and do whatever the hell we want!”

Dennis nodded. Sometimes, he resented Paddy’s for not giving him the chance to have a proper New Year’s - once, way back in 2013, he’d been so busy serving drinks he hadn’t even noticed the clock had struck twelve until Mac had pulled him into the back office to kiss him. He didn’t want to miss the turn of a new decade like that.

Slamming a beer down on the bar hard enough to make the rest of the gang jump, he grinned wildly at Mac and pumped a fist in the air with mock enthusiasm. Dee winced.

“Let’s make this the best New Year’s ever!”

**[TITLE CARD: THE GANG FALL ASLEEP]**

**9:26PM**

Frank was the first to go. Within half an hour of getting into the champagne, he’d trundled off into the back office and curled up in the big chair - nobody had blamed him for it, as he was the oldest of them all. Charlie had made that observation out loud without thinking, invoking a deadly hush amongst the gang. Frank’s age was one of the many unspoken taboos that they’d gained over the years.

In the bar, the party had actually begun to hit off. The gang had put out some calls and had managed to reel in a crowd of their usual lot: Artemis, Rex, The Waitress; Cricket had even turned up, much to Dee’s annoyance. 

“Hey,” Dennis yelled over the thumping music, gripping at Mac’s arm in annoyance, “hey, turn this shit off - we agreed only songs from this decade!”

“Huh?” Charlie said, cupping his ear, “this is from 2009, man!”

“Yeah, so last decade! Jesus Christ, can we at least turn it down a little? It’s hurting my ears.”

Mac hurried to the jukebox and turned the music down, stopping the shooting pain that had begun to stab at the back of Dennis’ eyelids; Dennis smiled at him, grateful, before turning back to Charlie.

“Tell me you know how decades work, Charlie.” He pleaded.

Charlie screwed up his face, “I’m not an idiot, man, I know how decades work - I just forgot what year it was.”

“You ‘forgot’ what year it was?”

“Yeah, I mean, time moves so fast, right? Remember ringing in the last decade? Tell me that doesn’t feel like it was only a couple of years ago.”

Dennis’ stomach dropped. Charlie was right. He looked around at the rest of his friends, realising, in horror, that they were old. The wrinkles around Mac’s eyes as he leaned against the jukebox and laughed at one of Rex’s bad jokes, the way Dee and Artemis were slurring their words already, so early in the night. Even looking down at his own hands, he saw they were marked by the years he’d barely noticed passing.

Charlie had moved onto another topic, something about time travel, but Dennis could barely breathe - his grip on his bottle loosened and he turned around, mumbling that he needed air before crashing through the back door, into the alleyway.

  
  


Outside, he leaned against the rough wall, letting the cool night freeze his lungs. It wasn’t any better out here, not for breathing anyway, but something about the icy burn of snowflakes on his face calmed him down a little. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head upwards and caught one on his tongue; it tasted acidic, polluted by the city smog.

The door next to him opened quietly and he turned his head to see Mac slipping out to stand in the snow with him. He was holding his jacket in his hands, big and thick and misshapen from years of wear.

“It’s cold, man.” He said, pressing the thing towards Dennis, “I don’t want you to get sick.”

Not in the mood for an argument, Dennis let Mac slip it over his shoulders; it smelt bad, like old weed and stale beer. But it was Mac’s and that made it almost sweet.

“Uh, you looking forward to 2020?” He asked, huddling deeper into the jacket. If Mac had come all the way out there, it was only right for him to try and make conversation.

Mac smiled, deepening the lines on his face, “yeah, man! I’ve already written up all of my resolutions, and I swear I’m sticking to them this time.”

“Resolutions?” Dennis snorted, “what resolutions could you possibly have? It’s not like you need to start working out more or anything, considering-” he gestured towards Mac’s body, cheeks heating a little at Mac’s shy smile.

“I’ve decided I’m gonna learn how to cook for you.” He said, proudly, “this time next year, I promise I’ll make you a proper New Year’s meal.”

_For you._

The words should’ve annoyed Dennis. The assumption that he wanted to be cooked for, Mac acting, once again, as though they were married - but all he felt was warmth, like his words were the jacket around his shoulders.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything cruel, “that’s a good resolution.” He admitted.

“It is.”

“And, uh-” Dennis cleared his throat, trying to keep the conversation going so his mind didn’t wander back down to his own wrinkled hands, “how did you find this decade, man?” It’s been a wild one.”

Mac’s eyes went distant for a moment. It had been a stupid question, Dennis knew exactly how Mac’s decade had been; he’d witnessed almost all of it. He could hardly believe how much had changed, and yet, how much had managed to stay the same. At the end of the last decade, they’d been in a similar position to where they were now - on the edge of something, in that space where a New Year’s kiss was inevitable, but not something either of them were in a place to discuss.

It was like they were goldfish in a circular bowl, swimming round and round, over and over, forgetting where they’d been so every new turn felt brand new.

“It has been wild, hasn’t it?” Mac said eventually, the corner of his mouth twitching a little, “but, I - I like how it ended.”

Dennis didn’t want to think about what Mac had been through over the decade, he just hoped that the next ten years would be a little kinder to him. Maybe that was all that love was, wanting a kinder world for someone. But he didn’t want to think about that, either.

“Me too.” He said, softly.

**10:36PM**

Charlie was the second to go.

It wasn’t his fault, really, it was Cricket’s; he’d helped him get his hands on some paint and it had all been downhill from there. In the end, he’d managed to stumble into the back office and crawled into the chair next to Frank, squished in next to him so tightly that Dennis was worried the two of them would be stuck in it forever.

The music was still on low, and someone had put a slow playlist on, the worst idea for that time in the night. Dennis could feel his eyes growing heavy.

“Hey, Dennis,” Dee hissed, obviously wasted, swaying with Artemis, “go dance with Mac.”

“Why?” Dennis snapped. He was sat on his favourite stool, bitterly watching Mac and Rex step together on the dance floor; they weren’t quite touching, but they were close enough that it was starting to grate on him.

Dee rolled her eyes, twirling a finger in Artemis’ long hair for emphasis, “because he’s been giving you sad eyes for the past half hour, and you look like you’re about to snap and murder Rex. You’re both ruining the festive vibe.”

Dennis sighed. Dee was right, as usual, but that didn’t stop the sting of Mac not making the first move.

“Fine.” He muttered, slamming his drink down on the bar and standing up, a little unsteady on his feet.

Dee cheered him on, stumbling against Artemis and looking queasy. In that moment, Dennis was very glad that Frank was asleep.

He reached Mac and tapped him on the shoulder, clearing his throat, “can I, uh-” he cringed at what he was about to say, “can I cut in?”

Mac frowned, “you wanna dance with Rex?”

“No - huh - what? I wanna dance with you!”

The smile that appeared on Mac’s face made Dennis nervous, paranoid, like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. He remembered being younger and his mum warning him not to stare at the sun for too long, in case he hurt his eyes; for months after, he’d try to catch glimpses of it in mirrors, or through sunglasses, afraid of getting hurt but so desperate to see what was forbidden to him. That’s what Mac’s smile reminded him of. Not of the sun, but of the forbidden treasure.

Mac gave a garbled apology to Rex before grabbing Dennis’ waist to dance with him, gripping tight as though he was afraid one of them would run away.

“Relax, man.” Dennis said, a little too sharply, as he looped his arms around Mac’s neck.

“Sorry.”

He was dancing stiffly, still nervous. Touch this intimate wasn’t taboo anymore - Mac had given Dennis one too many massages for either of them to feel strange pressed up against each other, but something about dancing had both of their hearts beating the same unsteady rhythm.

“I said relax!” Dennis complained, “it’s just dancing, it’s not like we’re-”

We’re what? Kissing? Banging? Dennis’ mouth went dry when he thought about later - how, when the clock struck midnight, he was going to let Mac kiss him.

He looked down at Mac’s lips and gulped - if he was brave, truly brave, he’d kiss him right then. There would be no doubt to any of it, no fear of backlash or rejection, so there was no reason for him not to. He’d probably be doing everyone a favour.

He was just so afraid of how it would make him feel.

“Hey, Dennis?” Mac said, breaking him from his stupor, “remember how you taught me to dance?”

Dennis smiled, another good memory from this decade - after the disastrous dance at their high school reunion, he’d taken Mac home and taught him how to, at the very least, sway to a beat. It hadn’t been a dance lesson really, more of an excuse for them to touch, but that wasn’t much of a secret.

“I remember,” Dennis said, “remember when we got kicked out of that bar ‘cos you punched someone who said you had no sense of rhythm?”

“That was a good night.” 

“Yeah.”

Dennis carefully rested his cheek against Mac’s, wincing as their skin touched - Mac was warm, as usual, and got steadily warmer as his face flushed. 

“How many bars do you think we got kicked out of this decade?” Dennis asked, closing his tired eyes.

“At least a hundred, man.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Mac took his hands off of Dennis’ hips, presumably counting bars on his fingers behind Dennis’ back, “there was that time at The Rainbow, then that gin bar, then the place where you and Dee lit that fire-”

Dennis grinned at the memory, “I liked the time we brought sweets and almost got arrested for drug dealing.”

“Do you remember the look on that officer’s face when Frank told him he couldn’t eat the sweets-”

“-because they had pork gelatin in, and that would make him a cannibal.”

“He didn’t get it.” Mac laughed, wrapping his arms around Dennis’ lower back and pulling him in closer so that they were flush up against each other, “and we were barred from there for life.”

“Or, at least, until they forget.”

“We should try going back someday - I liked the drinks.”

Dennis hummed in agreement, sighing a little as he leaned against Mac - ten years ago, dancing like this would have turned him on, made him pull him into the back office and show him how much closer they could get. Right then, he was comfortable to just stand there with Mac, safe.

If Mac were to pluck up the courage to pull him into the keg room and touch him, fuck him even, he’d happily say yes - but that wouldn’t happen, it hadn’t happened for years, not since Mac had come out.

“Remember how we rang in 2010?” Dennis asked, tentatively.

Mac’s arms stiffened around him and his breathing sped up a little, “uh - yeah, in the alleyway.” He said.

“Feels weird that was ten years ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

They weren’t dancing anymore, neither of them were moving their feet or even really swaying - for a million dollars, Dennis couldn’t name the song that was playing. All that existed in that moment was Mac’s cheek pressed against his own.

“We’re getting old, man.”

“Dennis…”

Mac’s voice was full of trepidation, like he knew what it meant when Dennis started thinking about age. He’d spend hours with him in front of the mirror, smoothing his fingers over his wrinkles and telling him his face was smooth; he’d helped him dye his gray hairs, despite the smell of the dye making him feel queasy; he’d even helped Dennis with his anti-ageing workout, despite not really approving of it.

“Will we even be here next decade?” Dennis asked, unable to hide the rising panic in his voice.

“Yes.” Mac said firmly, “we’ll still be here, all together, in the bar. We’ll still hold a big stupid party and I’ll still let you dance with me, even if we’re both old and tired.”

“I’m already old and tired.”

Mac sighed, bringing one hand up to run it through Dennis’ hair - Dennis prayed Dee wasn’t watching, “you’re not old, man. And, if you’re tired, you can have a nap before midnight; there’s a blanket out in the car.”

Suddenly, Dennis’ eyelids felt very very heavy; he yawned silently and gripped at Mac’s back, “no.”

“C’mon, man. I’ll nap if you nap.”

“Are _you_ tired?”

Dennis pulled away, a little reluctantly, and looked into Mac’s eyes; there were dark circles under them. They reminded Dennis of another period that decade, when Mac had refused to sleep for nearly an entire week because he’d been having nightmares. Dennis hadn’t let on that he knew ‘nightmares’ was code for dreams about men, but he’d let him nap with his head tucked into his shoulder during movie night, pretending not to hear him say his name in his sleep.

Now, Mac looked to be the comfortable kind of tired, the kind of tired where you knew you could crawl into bed in a few hours time and fall asleep warm and safe. He’d been getting that look a lot recently, more so since the two of them had started sleeping in the same bed again.

“If you don’t wanna sleep, I can last until midnight.” Mac said, smiling in a way that reminded Dennis of why he’d had their faces pressed together in the first place.

Instead of looking away, like he might’ve a few years ago, he held Mac’s gaze, braving the pain of it. They smiled at each other for a second, not saying anything, until Dennis glanced over at the bar to see Dee and Artemis egging on The Waitress as she downed a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, shit! We have to see this!” He said, pulling Mac towards the trio.

Mac went with him easily, still smiling.

**11:21PM**

Dee passed out at around eleven. She and The Waitress had gotten a little too drunk, and curled up on the pool table together. They were tangled familiarly, and Dennis wondered to himself when they’d gotten so close - the scene would have been sweet, had it not reeked of vodka. 

Looking around, Dennis realised everyone else was asleep as well, drooping around the bar like wilting flowers.

“I guess we’re the only ones left,” he said, slipping into a booth next to Mac, carefully putting two beers down in front of them.

Mac was leaning against the table, his chin resting in his hands, “mm-hmm,” he said, hardly listening.

“You sure you don’t wanna sleep?”

The way Mac shook his head, conflicted, made Dennis sigh. When had staying up until midnight become a feat rather than a routine?

“Close your eyes,” he said, glancing quickly behind him before cupping Mac’s face in his hands. What did it matter if she woke up and saw, anyway? She wouldn’t be surprised.

Mac closed his eyes, reaching his hands up to cover Dennis’; his breath hitched a little as Dennis leaned in close, close enough that he could’ve kissed him. He didn’t.

Instead, he pressed their foreheads together, “take a nap.” He murmured.

Mac pouted but kept his eyes closed and leaned back, resting his hand against Dennis’ chest. He’d gotten too big to curl up and sleep in the booth like he’d used to. Dennis remembered the night Maureen had kicked them both out, when they’d slept in the same booth, on seats opposite each other, parallel lines that never quite touched.

In the present day, Mac was leaning against Dennis’ head already lolling into the crook of his neck as he snored a little. Dennis huffed out a laugh - Mac had always been quick to fall asleep when Dennis was watching his back.

“Wake me up at midnight.” Mac said, half-asleep, and Dennis shushed him, running a hand through his hair. It felt weird without gel, something Dennis was still getting used to.

“I will,” he whispered, “I’ll wake you up.”

**3:27AM**

Dennis did not wake Mac up.

For once, it wasn’t his fault; he wasn’t being intentionally malicious or self-sabotaging. The real culprit had been Mac’s warm body, heavy and soft against Dennis, sending him to sleep almost immediately.

He was confused when he felt Mac shaking him, calling his name insistently.

“Dennis,” he was saying, “Dennis, wake up, you dick!.”

“Huh?” Why weren’t they in bed? Why was Mac upset? Why did their apartment stink of beer?

Then he remembered; they were in Paddy’s, it was New Year’s Eve and- “oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Thanks a lot, man.” Mac’s faraway voice was reproachful, the closest he’d get to anger nowadays.

Eyes still half closed, Dennis reached out for him, stopping when his hand brushed his arm, “shh,” he said, “it’s late.”

“Yeah, Dennis, it’s late. It’s past midnight.”

“Ugh.”

Dennis sat up properly, getting his bearings. They were still squished into their booth and Mac was still next to him, sitting close despite his apparent upset. The beer Dennis had been finishing off had rolled onto the floor, shattering and pooling in a sticky puddle at his feet - he kicked a shard of glass with his toe, wincing as it clattered noisily in the otherwise silent bar. If these were his first moments of the new decade, he almost hoped he didn’t make it through to the next one.

Mac looked at him with his eyes wide, as though expecting an apology. His hair was a mess from the way he’d been sitting and Dennis saw a speck of glitter on his cheek, shining as he tilted his head to the side. His lips were slightly parted and Dennis couldn’t help but feel a bitter pang of disappointment as he realised he’d missed out on his chance to kiss Mac, maybe his only chance this year.

“What?” Mac asked, expression not lightening under Dennis’ gaze like it usually did. “Aren’t you going to apologise?”

Surprised at his directness, Dennis stammered out a short, “huh?”

“Don’t look so surprised, man, this is your fault! Decades only come once every ten years - ‘dec’ means ten, Dennis! I remember that from fifth grade! Ten years!”

He must still be a little drunk, Dennis realised, feeling the alcohol muddy his own mind as he reached out to take Mac’s hand, silencing him.

“Dec _does_ mean ten,” he said quietly, impressed, knowing that the acknowledgement of Mac being right was a compliment when it passed between the two of them, “and I’m sorry.”

“See, man, I knew you were gonna brush th- wait, what?” Mac stopped short at Dennis’ apology, confused.

“I’m sorry, man. I know you wanted to be awake to ring in the New Year.” _And I know you wanted to kiss me._

“Oh, uh-”

Mac was thrown off - it hurt Dennis a little to see, to realise just how uncommon his apologies were. He made a mental note to add an extra bullet point to his secret list of resolutions.

“What if we pretend it’s midnight?” Dennis said desperately. He wasn’t sure if he’d have been this bold if he wasn’t still a little tipsy, and he found his eyes being drawn back to the puddle of beer at his feet, trying to determine how much he’d drunk before passing out. Not that it mattered much by this point, not that he cared enough to count beers anymore.

“Pretend?”

Mac was looming in on Dennis, brow furrowed deeply. He looked as though he knew exactly what Dennis was proposing but couldn’t quite believe it - like he’d just told him he loved him.

Dennis pulled back, needing space to breathe, “yeah, like, we can count backwards from ten and then yell and drink a ton.” And kiss. The kissing was maybe the most important part, but neither of them would ever admit that.

“That could work, yeah, okay-” Mac said, his face heating a little.

“Cool.” Cool. That was the stupidest thing Dennis could’ve said; he winced, gesturing wildly to distract Mac, “do you wanna..?”

“Oh, right, uh- ten.”

Ten years ago, Mac had pulled Dennis out into the alleyway as the countdown had started - they’d both been excited about the new decade, sure that it would bring them money and fame and happiness. Dennis had let his cold hands creep up Mac’s shirt, in an effort to keep warm more than anything else, and Mac had been smiling so wide it had been hard to kiss him.

They’d abandoned the rest of the gang after that, wandering the streets together, hand-in-hand, taking the long way home so they could soak up some of the jubilant atmosphere that seemed to carry on the night air like the cheap skunk Mac had smoked so often back then.

Dennis cleared his throat, “nine,” he said. The countdown felt almost silly without everyone else doing it, eerily intense.

Nine years ago, they hadn’t been each other’s first kisses of the year. They’d both kissed random patrons at the bar, women who must’ve been almost as drunk as they were - the taste of bitter whiskey had hung on Dennis’ tongue for hours after, no matter how much more he drank to try and wash it away.

It had only disappeared later on, back at the apartment, when Dennis had cornered Mac in the kitchen and smiled at him in his certain way; both of them had been just tired and drunk enough to pretend not to remember what happened in the morning.

“Eight.” Mac’s hand gripped Dennis’ wrist and Dennis inched forward, in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Eight years ago had been different - Mac had looked different, bigger but, in a sense, smaller. There’d been a confidence to him, though, that Dennis hadn’t been able to shake. It had scared him a little, if he was honest.

So, that had been the one year he’d planned everything out, devised a plan and made sure it all went just right - at eleven thirty, he’d slipped Mac a note, and at midnight he’d waited for him in the basement with sweaty palms.

Mac had come down, kissed him once, long and soft, and so kindly that it had hurt, before disappearing back up into the bar without another word.

“Seven.” Mac’s smile was probably supposed to be reassuring, but all it did was set Dennis’ heart off on that unsteady pace he hated so much.

Seven years ago had been an oasis in a desert of repression and mind games. The bar had been busy that night, far busier than they’d planned for, and Dennis had been swept off his feet. He was in the zone, really in the zone, keeping his head down and making drinks, so focused that he couldn’t see anything beyond the bar.

Then, Mac had woken him up. He’d tugged at his sleeve insistently, looking at him with his wide eyes; by then, they’d reached the point where Mac would rather die than ask for what he needed, so that unspoken look of want had all but been a love confession. Dennis had dropped whatever he was doing and let Mac lead him into the back office, shaking a little.

It hadn’t mattered that they’d missed the countdown - what they’d done in the office then had taken more time than a midnight kiss was worth.

“Six.” Dennis closed his eyes, already anticipating it, knowing that it would be impossible for him to make the first move.

Six years ago had been unremarkable - Dennis barely remembered it. If he strained, he thought he must have been wasted; he knows he kissed Mac, but by this point it didn’t matter how it had happened. It wasn’t like they talked about it. In the bathroom, the keg room, the back office, the alley, the street, their apartment, alone in the middle of Paddy’s, it was all the same. A kiss was a kiss was something they refused to acknowledge.

The only thing he remembered clearly from that year was how gentle Mac had been - he’d always been gentle, something that had surprised Dennis the first few times they’d kissed, but that was around the point where he’d started to become careful, as though he wasn’t sure who was more fragile, him or Dennis.

“Five.” Mac’s voice was hoarse.

Five years ago, Dennis had been angry, so goddamn angry that it had hurt. He didn’t remember what had set him off, maybe a patron had been rude or maybe Dee had been teasing him a way that hit on one of his exposed nerves; either way, he felt red hot, like a coal waiting to burn someone.

Mac had been that someone.

He’d whispered for him to meet him in the keg room, a little too loud, so that someone heard - looking back, Dennis regretted that, knowing it hadn’t been fair of him to enjoy the way it made Mac’s face flush, but he’d just been so tired of it all. Tired of the repression, of the way Mac’s homophobic rants bore a hole right through his chest.

When Mac had met him in the keg room, he’d kissed him right as the clock struck midnight, biting down on his lip, hoping it would stoke some of the fire that had fizzled out.

Mac had bitten him back before pulling away and walking out without another word, leaving Dennis to lick the blood from his lips and breathe.

“Four.” Dennis could feel Mac’s breath hot on his face and it made him shudder.

Four years ago, they’d broken their tradition and not kissed.

Dennis had been drunker than usual, maybe subconsciously aware of the disappointment he was setting himself up for. He’d stumbled over to Mac and muttered in his ear that he wanted him to take him to the back office, and Mac had pretended not to hear him, keeping the stony, stoic face of a broken man.

No amount of flirting or begging had made him move; Dennis had even tried to tell him he loved him, convincing himself it was all in the name of keeping up their tradition. Nothing had worked.

He’d ended up kissing a stranger by the pool table, so fast he hoped the gang didn’t notice. He’d hadn’t been a good kisser, far too rough and mean for a celebration kiss, but the novelty of kissing a man who wasn’t Mac had made Dennis giddy, made him feel like he could do whatever, or whoever, he wanted, and he’d ridden that high for a week straight.

“Three.” Mac put a hand on the back of Dennis’ neck, as though testing the waters, making sure Dennis was real.

Three years ago was marked more strongly as being only a few months before Mac had come out for good; it was obvious by the way he’d kissed that he’d already made up his mind.

The bar had been too loud for Dennis; he’d been getting overwhelmed more often at the time, feeling an urge to hide somewhere quiet and dark and safe. He’d stumbled into the bathroom during the countdown and Mac had followed him, misreading his signals. When he’d seen Dennis sat on the sink with his head in his hands, he’d tilted his face up and kissed him sweetly, on the stroke of midnight. His lips had tasted sweet, familiar, like a cocktail you would drink on holiday and think about for the rest of your life; Dennis had almost cried as he realised the real Mac was still in there somewhere, beneath it all.

But then the facade had gone back up again and Mac had remembered himself, remembered he wasn’t out of the closet yet; maybe he’d felt the waves of emotions coming off of Dennis and gotten scared. Either way, he’d run out of the bathroom as quickly as he’d entered, leaving Dennis with the memory of sweetness. He’d taken a very long time to follow Mac out.

“Two.” The tension between them was so thick that Dennis could taste it - Dennis pictured himself doing just that, imagined taking a spoon and scooping a mouthful of whatever it was that held him and Mac where they were, tasting it; he wondered if it would be sweet or bitter.

Two years ago, he hadn’t kissed anyone. Maybe Mac had, Dennis almost hoped that he had - he was glad to know that he’d had the gang, at least. He was glad to know that he hadn’t had to experience the feeling of lying in bed alone as people cheered and kissed and hugged outside his window, all reflecting distorted visions of what he could have been had he been a better person.

He did his best to forget that year.

“One.” Dennis could sense Mac leaning forward. He wanted to scream, wanted to open his eyes and see the train that was about to hit him. Instead, he leaned forward too, meeting him in the middle.

Because, one year ago, he hadn’t done that. One year ago, Mac had tried to kiss him and he’d pushed him away, screaming things he didn’t remember but knew he regretted.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, had he not looked into Mac’s eyes moments before and whispered, “kiss me.” 

He’d wanted it so badly, that kiss, but fear had won out and he’d done what he did best - run from what he wanted.

But, now, in the year 2020, Mac was kissing Dennis and Dennis was kissing him back, and he was almost crying because there was that gentleness again, not as prevalent now that it wasn’t magnified by fear, but still there enough for Dennis to taste. It was reverence and care and love and everything Dennis hoped he was communicating on his own end.

He didn’t pull away, he kissed Mac deeper, hands scrabbling as he pulled at his hair, cheeks burning as Mac melted into him.

Maybe a New Years tradition where you kiss your best friend is indicative of something deeper, maybe Dennis has always known that. Maybe Dennis gets more excited for New Year’s Eve than for Christmas because having an excuse to kiss Mac was a gift in itself.

Maybe things would be simpler if he admitted all this.

He never admitted anything, though, it wasn’t who he was. Instead, he pulled away from Mac, missing him even as he did so. Mac made a noise of disappointment that stopped when Dennis curled a hand in his hair, reassuring him that there was more to come.

“To a new decade,” he said, his voice shaking a little.

Mac smiled, “Happy New Year, Dennis.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! i hope the next year / decade treats u all kindly <3


End file.
